


A Heart of Valyrian Steel

by LadyNiaLavellan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dothraki, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, House Greyjoy, House Lannister, House Mormont, House Stark, House Tyrell, OC's - Freeform, Slow Burn, Smut, Unsullied - Freeform, begins before the taking of Highgarden
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-01-15 13:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNiaLavellan/pseuds/LadyNiaLavellan
Summary: Madelynn Tyrell is the youngest child of Mace Tyrell and is kept out of the public eye most of her life. Her grandmother sends her on a strange Diplomatic mission with a large force of soldiers just before Highgarden is taken by Lannister forces. How will this southerner fair in Winterfell as the Army of the Dead marches towards them? Will all of the people gathered be enough to stop the Night King?





	1. The Last Tyrell

**Author's Note:**

> I am in a GoT mood right now, here is my most recent plot bunny and I love this pairing as little is known about the younger Greyjoy brother of Balon and Euron. It gives me a lot to play with.

Chapter One: The Last Tyrell

  
  


Madelynn Tyrell was sitting in her bedroom in Highgarden, a maid braiding her raven hair close to her scalp when her Grandmother strode in.

 

“Madelynn, you’re to ride for Winterfell instead of King’s Landing.” Olenna Tyrell urged in that way she does.

 

Madelynn waved off the maid as she turned toward the now open door, “Grandmother? You said I was to join Margaery’s Queen’s Guard, why the change of plans?” 

 

“Don’t ask questions girl, just do as your bid. You will ride to Winterfell with six thousand men, do not argue.” The tone of her Grandmother’s voice was one Madelynn, the youngest, and lesser-known Tyrell, was not familiar with. Her grandmother was worried.

 

Nodding, Madelynn didn’t ask questions. She knew better. Her grandmother clasped her hands in her own, “what am I to do when I get to Winterfell, Grandmother? I do not know any of the Starks personally.”

 

Olenna smiled briefly, kissing her last living grandchild’s knuckles, “You will bend the knee to the King in the North and swear Highgardens fealty to Jon Snow. Now get dressed and get a move on, child.”

 

Madelynn dressed in a loose emerald cotton tunic and black leather breeches, black boots only coming up to her small ankles and the leather cuirass barely covered her torso; her scant armor was adorned with leather roses and leaves for her house. Her gloves were fingerless as Madelynn slid two short swords into the criss-crossed leather scabbards on her back. Margaery had once commented that the outfit made Madelynn look like a pirate.

 

She packed lightly, just a knapsack and two trunks that were carried out by some soldiers as her Grandmother revealed to her she was the heir to Highgarden now that her three elder siblings were no longer alive. That only meant one thing, the one thing she only liked wearing to feasts: Gowns. 

 

Madelynn was to ride to Oldtown, where she would board a Greyjoy ship that was headed towards White Harbor, and its crew, to Winterfell on Queen Yara’s orders. She had never been farther north than King’s Landing, but her Grandmother insisted Madelynn take half of Highgardens men and sail north to White Harbor, so that’s what she would do.

 

Standing at the open gates of Highgarden, Olenna Tyrell hugged Madelynn close and kissed the young woman on her forehead as she held back tears. She knew Lannister forces were coming to take Highgarden, but she also knew that their must always be a Queen of Thorns. She handed Madelynn a sealed wrappart of parchment, the House Tyrell seal had always been beautiful to her.

 

“Don’t read it until you reach White Harbor, my darling.” Olenna said as she released her granddaughter from a close hug. 

 

The next month would be spent on open water. Madelynn couldn’t wait to be back on a ship, though some in her contingent groaned at the sight of the Sunset Sea as they marched toward Oldtown. 

  
  
  
  


The week-long venture had seemed to fly by with no issue. Within an hour of arriving in Oldtown, her and her six thousand Highgarden men were boarding ships flying the golden kraken of the house Greyjoy. She would be on the largest of the hundred ships,  _ Iron Victory _ , she knew who the commander of this fleet was before her eyes found him: Victarion Greyjoy.

 

The man looked older than she had expected, and not as ‘simple’ as people made him out to be. Her father had told her once that the Greyjoys usually looked older than they were. This man had long black and grey hair down to his shoulders, wore the golden kraken armor of a Greyjoy, and had a permanent scowl imbedded on his war-torn face. Margaery wouldn’t have given a man like this a second look, but he intrigued Madelynn. To only be thirty and five and to have seen so much that your face was a permanent look of disgust took effort. 

 

Victarion’s grey eyes met Madelynn’s blue ones just for a moment and she gave him a soft smile; and her heart skipped a beat before her maid, Lissa, whisked her off and handed her the manifest of supplies. 

  
  
  
  


It had only been two weeks when Bea, Olenna Tyrell’s Gyrfalcon found Madelynn. A hastily scrawled message was attached to the black and gold bird’s leg. Unrolling it, Madelynn dropped to her knees at the bow of the ship and clamped her perfectly manicured hand over her mouth as she fought back tears.

 

_ Highgarden has been taken my Queen. Lannister forces hold it, your grandmother urged me not to send you anything before she died, you are now the Queen of Thorns. Keep Growing Strong, my Lady. -Leera _

 

Madelynn never knew about Lannister forces marching on Highgarden. That’s why her Grandmother had her leave, she knew the siege was imminent.

 

Lissa ran over to Madelynn once she noticed the most stoic woman she had ever met besides Olenna Tyrell, on her knees. Tears rolled down her soft cheeks and around her hands. “My lady, are you alright?” Lissa asked as she helped Madelynn stand on wobbling legs.

 

Madelynn handed Lissa the small scroll. Madelynn was the woman who was always brave in the face of the Stranger, but now she was the last of the Tyrells. Her siblings had all gone to meet the Stranger, thanks to Cersei. Her father was also in the sept when it had been consumed by wildfire. 

 

Her entire family was gone. Madelynn was truly alone in the world now. 


	2. Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”   
> ― Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Rythana and sutsop for the Beta reading and suggestions!

**Chapter Two: Winterfell**

  
  


The final two weeks of their voyage, not many saw the Lady Tyrell. She had been shut in her cabin, even for meals. Only Lissa was allowed in or out of the cabin; she would bring Madelynn her meals and help her bathe. The day she found out about the fate of Highgarden, Madelynn tore her cabin apart looking for her sigil necklace, which had fallen off the night before. 

 

Now she heard someone yell that they were nearing land. Emerging from below deck, wearing one of her summer gowns seemed like a terrible choice. It was freezing. She shivered as she held her arms around her torso. It would only be a few candle marks ride from White Harbor to Winterfell, but something caught Madelynn’s attention: two dragons flew overhead! 

 

One was almost the color of onyx and rusted iron, the other a beautiful emerald green. She gripped the golden rose pommel of one of her swords before the large beasts flew off. Her azure eyes followed the graceful animals as they circled the harbor. Suddenly, a heavy black cloak was laid on her shoulders, she turned to see Victarion Greyjoy give her a sad look. His face was strong, stoic as the day they met, but his eyes softened.

 

Madelynn nodded a silent thanks to the ship's Lord Captain as they docked. Her long black tresses hung in their natural loose curls and framed her pale face beautifully. The ironborn couldn't help but stare at her sad face that bore a fake smile.

 

Two candle marks later, Madelynn emerged from the small inn and tavern dressed in brown leather breeches, a bright red tunic and a new black, fur-lined cloak with a hood. Her sleeves were tight until her elbows, and flared dramatically to her strong thighs as she sat atop Nerah, her chestnut and white appaloosa mare. Lissa had never ridden a horse before; Madelynn gave her a few pointers in this before the rest of the highborn lords and ladies had joined them near the outskirts of White Harbor.

 

Victarion’s fleet had brought more than Madelynn from the western coast. He had ferried Jaime Lannister and some highborn girl that couldn’t be more than twelve as well. Madelynn wondered why Jaime had been headed north, but she figured it was none of her business as he looked far worse for wear than the last time she saw him.

 

Lissa tapped Madelynn on her shoulder as the two friends sat atop their horses, “That captain has been staring at you since we disembarked, m’lady. He seems quite taken with you, if I must say.” 

 

Madelynn looked over her shoulder to see Victarion Greyjoy ogling her and she spun frontface, blushing scarlet. Minutes passed before he joined her at the front of the contingent, avoiding eye contact as their horses sniffed at each other.

 

Madelynn nudged Nerah with her heels and the ten thousand joined troops began the trek to Winterfell, following the tail of strange men with dark skin who wore all black, thin leather armor. 

 

_ Aren’t they cold? _ Madelynn thought as she cocked her head, it seemed they  _ should _ be cold. Madelynn was cold, and she had on a heavy cloak to keep her warm. Shaking her head, she shifted in the uncomfortable saddle she had yet to break in, she knew she would be sore once they did reach their destination. 

 

She did notice the Lord Captain eye her from time to time, probably getting the measure of her. Madelynn would try not to laugh as Lissa made crude gestures behind him, most of the time failing. It wasn’t a particularly long ride to Winterfell from White Harbor, but it was very cold. The grey sky was foreboding and strange to look at, the snow was an entirely new experience as well. It never snowed in Highgarden, rained, but never snowed. When it began, there was curious awe-struck voices from many of the southern soldiers and common-folk, including Madelynn.

 

Five candle marks later, the sky had darkened even more, and the snows fell heavier. Wintertown’s commoners seemed angry, but terrified as the two dragons from before had flown over some time ago. Seeming disinterested in the southern army marching through Wintertown, the villagers were milling about, returning to their daily work. The Tyrell and Greyjoy banners marching on Winterfell seemed to raise less suspicion than the strange army that had come before, and a Gyrfalcon flying above was much less terrifying than a dragon.

 

Tents were being set up by the time Madelynn and Victarion came through the gates of Winterfell, followed by the other lords and ladies that had accompanied them. A tall red headed woman, wearing a black gown and speaking to a man dressed similarly, nodded towards the incoming Lady. Silver hair caught Madelynn’s attention as she dismounted her horse in one swift motion. 

 

_ The Dragon Queen, what is Daenerys Targaryen doing in Winterfell?  _ Madelynn’s thought was interrupted by who she believed was Jon Snow, The King in the North, “Welcome Lady..?”

 

Madelynn gave him a genuine smile before curtseying, “Tyrell, Your Grace. Lady Madelynn Tyrell. I was told by my grandmother to ride north with six thousand men to aid you against the army of the dead.” She said gravely, the tone of her sweet bell-like voice changing to one of seriousness as she motioned toward a few soldiers, three holding House Tyrell banners as they stood at attention mere feet away. 

 

“Lady Olenna is dead, how do we know you are who you claim to be?” The redhead asked kindly, giving the silver-haired Queen a distrustful glance as Daenerys spoke in a tongue unknown to Madelynn.

 

“Queen Margaery was my elder sister my Lady, she spoke very highly of you. I see I did not come up in conversation, however. I am Madelynn Olenna Tyrell, fourth born of Mace Tyrell, and now trueborn heir to Highgarden. If what my grandmother stated in her letter is correct, there won’t be a Highgarden to reclaim if the threat you face is allowed to progress southward.” Madelynn said, used to being spoken down to as a fourth born child of a great house, she knew she must assert herself in this situation as her grandmother would have. She pulled the wrappart of folded parchment from a hidden pocket in her leather armor and handed it to Jon to read for himself:

 

_ Madelynn, my darling, _

 

_ By the time you read this, Lannister forces will have taken our home, and I more than likely did not survive the encounter. This is one of the many reasons I sent you North to Winterfell. The most prominent reason being Jon Snow, The King in the North. He claims the dead march south and intend to take all of Westeros, leaving corpses or worse in their forsaken wake. Help him stop this threat, and then he may help you retake your ancestral home. Keep Growing Stronger, my dear. _

 

She had signed it in her own hand, a crumpled doodle of a Tyrell rose accompanied the letter. It was the last thing Olenna had received from Margaery before her death. Jon nodded and handed the letter to Sansa, who knew Lady Olenna’s handwriting, “This is Lady Olenna’s own hand; welcome to Winterfell, my Lady. You as well, Lord Captain. Your niece sent word a fortnight ago that you would be arriving.”

 

Victarion nodded with a stern grunt before answering, “Aye, she sent the fleet to White Harbor in case you could not hold the North and need to retreat to safety.” Madelynn averted her gawk at the way his words were simple. From the man's reputation, one could hardly call him simple, however. 

 

Lissa came up behind Madelynn, ushering her away from Jon and his younger sister and into Winterfell’s keep. Madelynn was tired, sore and really felt the need to bathe. A scullery maid led the two women to an empty solar and began to light the fires in the rooms adjoining the suite. A wooden tub was brought in a half candle mark later, and Lissa began filling it with hot water as Madelynn brushed her hair from the braid it had been in. 

 

Madelynn’s mind began to wander to her family. She hadn’t yet let herself mourn the loss of her siblings or her father, pushing it to the darkest recesses of her mind for her travels. Now she was undressing, not having anything to busy herself with her mind wandered to that dark place. She would never again gossip with her older sister about the happenings in King’s Landing, nor ogle visiting noblemen with her brother Loras. But she would fight with everything in her to take back her home and keep it from the undead marching south.

 

Tears sprang unbidden to her ocean blue eyes, pain began deep in her chest as the emotional stress of it all ran her down like a horse on the battlefield. Sobs wracked her tiny frame as she brought her knees to her chest. Madelynn swore loudly at the void that was threatening to consume her as Lissa crossed the barely lit room and tried to offer her comfort.

 

Even Madelynn knew there was no comfort that could console her broken heart and scarred mind.


	3. The Long Night: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madelynn and the rest of Winterfell begin preparations for the army marching on Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how much you guys like this random plot bunny, as promised another chapter! Thanks to sutsop for Beta-ing and being my editor for this chapter! 
> 
> ~Nia

**Chapter Three: The Long Night**

  


It had been two days since Madelynn had arrived in Winterfell. All of the Lords and Ladies were asked to attend in the Great Hall; Madelynn had no idea why. Here she was, waiting as she was seated next to the scarred girl she had arrived with to her left, and Lady Lyanna Mormont to her right. The girl she had unknowingly traveled with, she had learned was Shireen Baratheon, the last living legitimate Baratheon. She looked to be about twelve, though Lissa told her she was nearly ten and six.

 

         Slowly, people began to fill the large feast hall. Men Madelynn had yet to meet clapped each other on the back. Ladies, the ones left in charge upon the deaths of their fathers and brothers as she had been, sat stock straight with their hands in their laps.

 

         She seemed to be the only highborn lady clad in breeches and a loose, violet tunic; she had discarded her Highgarden leathers in her bedroom after a vigorous morning of training. Now she sat, her right foot resting on her left leg and her arm leaning against the table behind her; if Septa Gloryanna saw her now, she would probably die of an attack of the heart.

 

         The entire room went quiet and every person stood and bowed as Jon Snow entered, his sister on one side and the Dragon Queen on his other.

 

         The Lady of Winterfell, Sansa Stark, called upon the young Lord Umber, who couldn't be more than eight years old. She told him to travel to his home, Last Hearth and retrieve everyone - moving them to Winterfell would not be easy. The young lordling had asked for more horses and wagons, to which the Lady of Winterfell obliged with a small smile.

 

A candlemark later and a few introductions after Lady Sansa had departed the hall, Madelynn had met quite the number of Northern Lords and Ladies. Alys Karstark was a girl of only ten and four, but was the head of her house; Lady Mormont, who was only ten and two, had an older cousin, Jorah, but she was the Lady of Bear Island. Some of it did not make sense to Madelynn. Freeing herself from the confines of the stifling Great Hall, she burst out into the darkness of the courtyard.

 

“M’lady, you’ll catch yer death if ye not careful,” a young man, maybe twenty and three, said as he hammered away at some black rock on the weapon he was working on in the forge.

 

Madelynn eyed the weapon carefully: Dragon Glass. She heard Jon talking to an older gentleman about it the day before. “This kills white walkers?” She asked as she fingered a spear-head shaped piece of the smooth black rock.

 

The young man nodded and wiped his dirty brow, “Aye, it does. Seen it myself when I was beyond the wall with Lord Snow. Also seen what we’re up against. It iddint pretty, m’lady.”

 

A scarred man, one she knew from reputation and hearsay alone, stomped his boots against a broken anvil before sitting on a tall log in a corner. The Hound. Madelynn turned and stepped away before she made a fool of herself. Problem was, she ran straight into plate armor and fell to the ground.

 

“Shite! I am sorry, I didn’t see you there Ser Greyjoy.” Victarion Greyjoy towered above her, his face its usual grimace, but his eyes were questioning as he held his hand out to help her up. Lissa ran over and held up her cloak with the rose pin as Madelynn shrugged it on.

 

“It isn’t a problem, my lady,” Lord Captain Greyjoy said in a gruff voice as he bowed his head and walked past her, handing that young man two separate pieces of parchment and speaking low so no one would hear.

 

Two candle marks later, Madelynn stood on the battlements overlooking the northern gates of Winterfell. It had been snowing heavily since the day she arrived, she never knew anything to be as beautiful as the north. Not even her grandmother's rose garden. She had heard rumors of it snowing in King’s Landing right after Madelynn had set off for White Harbor. She leaned her arms on the cold stone and clasped her gloved hands together as she let her thoughts wander to her sister.

 

_Margaery would have loved the snow, she would have loved the way it sparkles when light hits it._

 

It must’ve only been a few moments, but suddenly, a girl maybe ten and eight stood next to her, stock straight, arms folded behind her back. She carried a small, thin sword on one hip, and a valyrian steel dagger on the other. She had a long face, but still pretty. Short, dark hair rested at her shoulders. She didn’t say anything, but gave Madelynn a hard stare before joining The Hound sitting atop the battlements.

 

Madelynn shrugged and spun on her heel, she swore she could feel eyes boring into her back, but no one seemed to be there. She rested her right hand on the golden pommel of one of her swords as she just looked onto the peaceful, uninterrupted snow. She had heard that Lord Umber had ridden for Last Hearth just after they convened. The poor boy seemed frightened before he rode north.

 

Ser Jorah had been arguing with his little cousin, Lyanna in the courtyard. Madelynn could hear the harsh words coming from the young girl. She had said she had trained every man, woman, and child to fight in the fight to come and that she would not cower like a rat in the crypts. Madelynn had no intention of sitting idle in the crypts with the children either. It’s not why she came. She would fight, even if it meant her death.

 

“M’lady, you’ll catch your death up ‘ere,” The blacksmith, Gendry, said as he emerged from the stairs.

 

“More like I’ll catch my death in this fight, Gendry. Is there something you need?” she asked, not looking at him, but out into the frozen night.

 

Gendry nodded and placed something wrapped in cloth on the stone in front of her, “What’s this?” She asked as she fingered the thin cloth before flipping a piece of it back. Two dragon glass short swords lay in front of her, roses etched into the onyx blades. She lifted one and felt the weight; it was perfectly balanced and weighted. “Who?” she asked, turning her head to face Gendry.

 

Gendry smiled, obviously proud of his work as he saw the sparkle in her eyes, “I dunno, big angry lookin’ fella. Looked like a Greyjoy, m’be? Either way, these’ll be better than your current ones for what we’re up against.”

 

Gendry had a great axe in his other hand with a kraken on the handle. Of course the broody, quiet Lord Captain had weapons made for her. Gendry also handed her a full wine skin. She hadn’t had wine much, even as an adult and never really liked it, but she knew it helped make some more courageous.  

 

Leaning against the battlements, she admired her new weapons and took a good, long drink of the sweet wine she had been given. She knew it would be soon, and now, even sooner as some riders had just come through the gates, dressed in black and grey furs.

 

Something was about to happen; Madelynn wasn’t sure she would survive the night with the way hurried voices spoke below her. Lissa came up the stairs in a huff. Her arms held a new, full leather cuirass that was lined with thick fur. Since everyone seemed to be readying for a battle, Madelynn thought it best she did as well. She removed the thick black cloak and allowed Lissa, who had become more a squire than a Lady’s maid the past days, to strap her into the dark, boiled leather. A large rose sat at the hip, metal fittings shone on the petals. Once strapped into the cuirass, Madelynn relieved herself of her iron swords and replaced them with the dragon glass swords at each hip. “Join the others in the crypts Lissa. I do believe the time is near for one bloody fight,” Madelynn said cooly as she pulled her gloves back on and followed Lissa down to the courtyard. Everyone was gathered; bells were ringing heavily and the Unsullied were marching through the gates with the Dothraki right behind them.

 

Madelynn stood with Lyanna Mormont, Victarion Greyjoy, The Hound and plenty of others who had pledged to fight for the north. This was it, now or never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had people asking me about the word candlmark for measuring time, a candlemark is equal to one half hour, thirty minutes or so, obviously it's not exact.


	4. The Long Night Part Two: The Battle for Winterfell *MILD SPOILERS*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happened at the battle for winterfell in Madelynn's POV. If you've seen episode 3, plz continue, if not GO WATCH IT BEFORE EPISODE 4 COMES ON ON SUNDAY!

**Chapter Four: The Long Night, Part Two: The Battle For Winterfell**

  
  
  


Madelynn stood with Lyanna Mormont, Victarion Greyjoy, The Hound, and plenty of others who had pledged to fight for the north. This was it, now or never.

 

Suddenly, Madelynn was pulled aside by Theon Greyjoy, “What in the seven hells are you thinkin’? Your grandmother had something sent to you. It arrived today. Come on.”

 

Madelynn was rushed into the empty Great Hall, where a set of shining iron and gold plate armor stood, “My grandmother knows I don’t wear plate, it hinders movement.” Madelynn ran a long finger over the right pauldron; it was the only piece that shone gold.

 

A large Tyrell rose was pronounced in full golden glory and her name was etched underneath: _Madelynn Roseborn of House Tyrell, Queen of Thorns._ She hurriedly shed her boiled leather and Theon helped her strap into the armor, which was surprisingly lighter than she thought it would be.

 

She also shook out her long hair, pulling her dagger from its place at the small of her back. “What’re ya doin?” Theon asked as she gathered her raven curls in her left hand at the nape of her neck.

 

She looked at him with steely eyes as she brought the dagger away from the back of her neck in one swift move. It left her hair at chin length as the rest fell to the heels of her boots, “I don’t want it to catch in the armor.” Madelynn said as she shrugged and placed the dagger back in its sheath.

 

Next, she strapped her new swords around her hips and made her way back out to the others. Receiving gawks or nods of approval, neither mattered to her as she unsheathed her dual blades as the gates opened to the Unsullied standing at attention behind Dothraki, behind the remains of Baratheons and Starks, Greyjoys and Tyrells. Victarion stood in front of his men, and she in front of hers.

 

She didn’t know what to do. The warhorns blared from behind her, but Madelynn didn’t flinch as she now knelt in front of her troops. She prayed to the old Gods and the new for the strength to defeat this evil. She prayed to The Warrior for strength that she might defeat the undead threat, and to The Stranger that might she fall in battle, he would bring her to his side. Her faith had never strayed, not even with the murder of her family.

 

As she stood in front of her troops, the silence was deafening. The only sounds heard were that of horses whinnying, hastened, fearful breaths and Daenerys’ dragons in the distant darkness. She looked to her right and left, the fear in the eyes of the others made her feel somewhat less terrified of what was about to happen. Suddenly, a woman, clad in a red cloak rode up to the gathered soldiers. Madelynn couldn’t hear what the woman said to Ser Jorah, but a moment passed and the Dothraki blades lit up, bursting into flames quickly, one by one. Another few moments passed and the woman rode past her, looking at each of the Lords and Ladies in turn before being allowed through the gates.

 

Everything happened in slow motion after that, the Dothraki rode forth on their horses, and Madelynn watched in horror as each flaming curved blade was snuffed out, one by one.

 

Ser Jorah rode back amidst a herd of empty horses, fear was apparent in his dark grey eyes. Madelynn could feel the ground shake beneath her, and knew it wasn’t the horses that had stopped next to her. Like a flood, the dead slammed into the eight thousand unsullied in front of them, Madelynn was ready for this; she would either live or die defending Westeros from these walking corpses.

 

Madelynn felt something well up inside; anger perhaps, that these _things_ were trying to destroy her home. She didn’t hesitate when she came face to face with the first of the bright blue-eyed creatures to break through the unsullied line of defense. She used all of her strength to drive her swords deep into its head.

 

It didn’t take long to realize that the troops that had gathered were fiercely outnumbered and outmatched; these white walkers just kept coming, and Madelynn felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder and cried out. A rusted sword was now embedded in between the gap of her armor and her arm  It became limp at her side. She felt someone tug at her other arm just as she was about to put her other sword through the gut of another attacking wight. She turned to see him, Victarion Greyjoy. He held his axe in one hand and the sword she dropped in his other. He dragged her back towards the gates as she protested, “No! I will die to defend Westeros, let me _go_ Victarion!”

 

Instead of giving in to her demands of suicide, he grabbed her by her good arm and turned her to face him. “You are of more value alive, Lady Madelynn.” His steel eyes were soft when he gazed into her cerulean ones. She wasn’t even sure he knew her first name.

 

Madelynn saw a bright light flicker in her peripheral vision; they lit the trench, effectively stopping the army of the dead from advancing on Winterfell. Victarion carried her through the doors of the keep, up some stairs, she was sure. Her vision blurred in and out as she focused on the dripping of her blood on the stone floors.

 

Her consciousness faded in and out. She was on Victarion’s shoulder one moment, the next, being stripped of her armor, then screams filled her ears from outside. She heard someone yelling that the dead were over the walls. Victarion was fighting a couple of wights the next time she opened her eyes.

 

By the time Madelynn fully regained consciousness, she was being tended to by Samwell Tarly, and her left arm was gone.


End file.
